The Daughter of the Regiment

We found her wand’rin’ lonely in the midnight cold an’ damp,

An’ picked her up so tenderly an’ brought her into camp;

We tried to keep her hidden from McSweeny an’ the rest,

An’ for a time succeeded, but ‘twas difficult at best.

We nursed her O, so carefully, an’ grew to love her, too,

But it was worse than stealin’, always keepin’ her from view.

We tried to find a name for her – in vain the time was spent,

An’ so we split an’ called her, “Daughter of the Regiment”.

She grew in grace an’ stature ‘cuz she had the best o’ care,

An’ ev’ry private thought her most excutiatin’ fair;

Her hair was smooth an’ glossy an’ her eye was bright as steel,

O’ her capers were mischievous, which we managed to conceal.

We knew we couldn’t keep her yet we didn’t have the sand

To turn her from our keepin’, with no one to hold her hand

An’ watch her little footsteps lest she meet with accident,

An’ so we kept her with us, “Daughter of the Regiment.”

Alas! The dread day found us an’ our happerness was spent;

McSweeny heard her singin’ in the rear o’ Brooks’s tent.

He brought her to the guard house an’ he called us to explain,

Which Pontillo, in his fashion, tried to do, but all in vain:

“Meester Serge’,” said he, salutin’, first with left hand then with right,

“We fin’ da leelta babe een da dark an’ colda night;

We breeng her home just lika so, an’ geer her gooda home;

Bimeby we hava playnta meelk, maybe you lika some?”

McSweeny looked us over with his teeth a-showin’ white;

His face was drawn an’ sober though his eye was wild an’ bright.

We knew that we would lose her, an’ we felt fur from content

When he pointed at the tremblin’ “Daughter of the Regiment.”

“As fine a gang o’ soldiers as you’ll find most any place,

But as for farmers,” says he, “you are worse than a disgrace!”

McSweeny looked her over, then he chuckled down his throat:

“Milk?” says he to Pontillo, “W’y he ain’t that kind o’ goat!”

Jan. 31 1918